


Gravity

by Tenery



Category: Homeland
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-08-19 23:02:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 7,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8227771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tenery/pseuds/Tenery
Summary: Post Finale Fic Challenge - Final Chapter: LifeThe story is now complete!In a puzzle, Quinn and Carrie's lives, after they get together.





	1. Gravity

**Author's Note:**

> **Tenery has finished his story. Tenery thanks people who stuck with him through it. Tenery apologizes for being romantic and pretty mushy. Also, for all the sex. Tenery swears that the story makes perfect sense in the end.**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> **Chronological order: Electromagnetism, Phase transition, Weak interactions, Aphelion, Gravity, Colliding, Chain reaction, The Observer Effect, Annihilation I, II, Ionization, Limit Point, Euctectic Composition, Life.**  
>  ** Picasso Order: As published. **

First day together they didn't talk. Just fuck. She was prudent, he was pretending. 

Second day together they didn't talk. Just kissed. And fucked. He was tender, she was believing. 

Third day they just talked.

He never really told her. He never used that word, never said. He was curt, harsh sometimes.

For two years she wondered. 

Six months in she understood. The power of her own smile. She smiled, he gravitated. Toward her, like a planet, in silence. She smiled, and he got closer, she smiled, and he kissed her, she smiled, and he touched her. 

Still curt, still harsh. 

But a smile, and he fell. 

Eight months in she realized she loved it. Being gravity.

Two years in she knew. It was cold. In a short tunnel, they walked. It was dark, but she wanted to see, so she stopped and smiled. 

He stopped. He stared. 

I love this smile on you, he said. 

And she just said, I love you.


	2. Electromagnetism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chronological order: Electromagnetism, Phase transition, Weak interactions, Aphelion, Gravity, Colliding, Chain reaction, The Observer Effect, Annihilation I, II, Ionization, Limit Point, Euctectic Composition, Life.**   
>  ** Picasso Order: As published. **

He didn't notice at first. Just a strange feeling in his stomach when she entered the room, all shiny and focused and charged. The air became thicker, electrified with her energy, even the colors changed, shifting from grey to golden… the whole space seemed different in her presence.

He felt it on his skin, he didn't need to look.

But he looked. Second thing he didn't notice was his own eyes betraying him, his gaze sticking to her, following her movements, never leaving - her skin, her hair, her eyes, her lips.

He found himself staring, unable to avert his look, for long moments, and he couldn't help it.

Then again, the way her hair smell when she slid past him in the narrow office space, the way he wished to take her in his arms and hold tight.

He wondered how it could feel like, to hold her close, to breathe her in.

Next thing he refused to know was his need to keep her safe, and it was so hard given their line of duty, and she was so reckless, so devoted.

He wanted to scream with frustration when she put herself out there, facing danger, but he had to clench his teeth and swallow his anxiety.

One day, out of nowhere, it hit him.

They call it “love”.


	3. Aphelion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Chronological order: Electromagnetism, Phase transition, Weak interactions, Aphelion, Gravity, Colliding, Chain reaction, The Observer Effect, Annihilation I, II, Ionization, Limit Point, Euctectic Composition, Life.**   
>  ** Picasso Order: As published. **

He didn't know how not going back to her.  
After the CIA exploded, he got back to her.  
After Brody died, he got back to her.  
After Haqqani lived, he got back to her.  
When he got her name in the box, he got back to her.

Then he died.

Death is strange when you wake up from it. This is new, he thought, all these suffering and changes, a new me, a new man, damaged and weak and sick and nightmares and military acronyms for what's wrong in your brain, but still, new.

New meant he could end her, finally. So he did. 

She raged and she cried and she begged in his hospital room, but he was stone and sarcasm, he was all broken and a shadow but he was new.

She was gone at last, and he was gone too.

For two years. By car and train and boat, not drifting, exploring. Seeing golden cold skies over oceans and paths of rocks and stories in old ridges, seeing ugly, industrial boats prisoners of deserts of frozen water.

The world, grabbing his throat with beauty.

And one day he saw her again. 

She was not here, of course. But still he saw her. A cold and humid evening in a hidden valley, and suddenly he remembered her, he felt her presence, she was so there that he was speechless, breathless, she was an illusion, with a smile that she never gave him. 

And then she was everywhere.

On the roads in the cars he passed, on the buses that he just missed, in the late ferry he didn't catch. 

Chain reaction, the world catching fire. Every landscape and every corner and every crowd burning with her, the universe exploding in a soundless, fiery presence, his soul being ripped apart.

So he got back. 

When he was there he hesitated. 

Then he took his phone.

"Carrie", he texted.


	4. Colliding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Chronological order: Electromagnetism, Phase transition, Weak interactions, Aphelion, Gravity, Colliding, Chain reaction, The Observer Effect, Annihilation I, II, Ionization, Limit Point, Euctectic Composition, Life.**   
>  ** Picasso Order: As published. **

It was cold. In a short tunnel, they walked. It was dark, but she wanted to see, so she stopped and smiled.

"I love this smile on you," he said.

And she just said, "I love you."

—-------

But he didn't answer. One look at her, and he began to walk again.

Out of the tunnel, they walked, and still he didn't say anything. To the car, they walked, and still.

But he didn't get into the car. They got coffee instead.

She was mad and she was hurt. No answer was an answer, she felt so alone, across the table from him, so alone, sand in her throat, gravity couldn't be trusted, and she prepared to destroy him so at least there would be two tombs in the desert.

But then he asked:

"Is it true? What you said?"

She hesitated. Her throat still hurt. In another way.

"Yes. Yeah."

"OK."

She became a little crazy then, in her head, why what what does that mean why what.

"I have a lot of nightmares," he said.

The crazy disappeared. She watched him, focused now.

"You never told me."

"I'm telling you now," he whispered, but his tone was not harsh. Not at all. It was the answer, the answer to the tunnel, this tone, and his eyes.

So her throat hurt again, but a third way, emotion like a pit, now it was her turn and she told him, how she felt him so far away, like he had not been really here, for two years, those two years till he came back, till they'd been together, and yes there were moments, and yes there were glimpses, and yes there were wonders, but you were closed, she explained, and he listened with a bitter smile.

Cause he had not been closed. He had been guarded. Defiant. Waiting for her to destroy him.

"I thought you loved me," he answered, after a while.

"I do."

"But you're unhappy."

"No," she said, slowly. "But I want more."

He didn't answer, now there was sand in his throat, too.

Carrie smiled, sadness, and hope.

"Can you give me more?"


	5. Chain reaction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Chronological order: Electromagnetism, Phase transition, Weak interactions, Aphelion, Gravity, Colliding, Chain reaction, The Observer Effect, Annihilation I, II, Ionization, Limit Point, Euctectic Composition, Life.**   
>  ** Picasso Order: As published. **

It started long ago. He knows now. The first smile. The first coffee. The first time he dreams about her at night. In his dreams she is always a flash of light, a burst of energy, a wave of power, the center of it all. The first time he cares. The first time she's harmed. All those times he can't protect her.

All out in the open now. He's a void. He can't stop it anymore. Can't hide. Can't hold back. Nine years. Too long. Too short. A lifetime.

It starts with little things. Chain reactions always do.

Dreams turn into nightmares. Fears turn into panic. Insecurity turns into anger. But he always comes back to her. Of course he does. They are tied together, how could he not?

He knows what he needs. It's not her who needs more. He needs more.

A catastrophic nuclear failure is a sudden and total failure from which recovery is impossible.

Sometimes he wonders if that’s what they are: a catastrophe, recovery impossible.

But then one night, they are in bed. It has been a good day. One of the better ones. They make love. And she says it again. Quinn. I love you. Just the second before.

And it stays with him. It feels real.

And then she is in his arms, and she says it again. I love you.

And he holds his breath. And breathes in again.

I love you. Carrie. I love you.


	6. Weak interactions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Chronological order: Electromagnetism, Phase transition, Weak interactions, Aphelion, Gravity, Colliding, Chain reaction, The Observer Effect, Annihilation I, II, Ionization, Limit Point, Euctectic Composition, Life.**   
>  ** Picasso Order: As published. **

It was a fight that changed everything. Of course, it was no news, they fought a lot, that's how things were. She always wondered, how it was possible - that attraction-repulsion dynamic of theirs, ever-present, the most stable thing in her world, yet by nature so unstable. 

He yelled at her. He didn't want her help, that's why. Making her life harder. Making his own life harder. Couldn't he just give in?

She was insisting, she couldn't back away, not this time, not after all the shit, and she saw she was getting to him. Maybe it was too much, but would there be another chance?

“I want to be here, with you. It's not guilt. It's not debt. I want it.”

He listened, finally, he went silent. He let her words in. She saw it written on his face. Just don't scratch it, don't invent crappy explanations, don't ruin it. Take it, accept it, I’m not your enemy, I’m here for you.

And he surrendered. Just like that, he stepped forward and kissed her. 

When she found out he had disappeared the next day, deep inside she knew he would come back to her, for real.


	7. The Observer Effect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Chronological order: Electromagnetism, Phase transition, Weak interactions, Aphelion, Gravity, Colliding, Chain reaction, The Observer Effect, Annihilation I, II, Ionization, Limit Point, Euctectic Composition, Life.**   
>  ** Picasso Order: As published. **

It's hard before, it's hard after. Knowing they love each other doesn't make it easier. In fact it's worse. He feels naked. Exposed. He wants to take it back. Not that it's not true. It's too true, it's aching, even now. Even though she's in his arms. Sure, she said it, said it first, but come on. They both know it's a lie. 

She's settling, they both know it. He's here, she wants normalcy. So she took him and pretended to love. 

It gets dark, in his mind. 

At night. 3 am. Very dark. 

He knows he's cursed. The curse comes from childhood. He was born and the fairies laughed, a crystal ironic laugh. Left to drink champagne elsewhere. The child became a killer, everything in his hands turns to ashes, and this - Carrie - it's another curse, the curse of pain... knowing it's half a lie and he'll never get it. 

Then she smiles. 

And it's day. Sun. Blue. Smells of food and laughter and Franny running around. Carrie smiles. At him. She kisses him good morning and there’s this light in her eyes and the curse is lifted, the threat of lies evaporates, like mist in the golden afternoon heat.

And then night falls. 

And it's 3am, again.

\--

Carrie is made of stronger stuff. True, at her birth, the fairies were drunk. Oops, they said, messing up her brain. But they meant well.

And there was the old magician. 

"I'll take care of her," he said. The fairies laughed. "Old man, you can't! Your brain is messed up too!" But he answered: "At least she'll have someone."

So it came that Carrie believed in steadfast love, because she had a dad. 

For years she didn't know she believed. She had many men and little time. 

Then the tide changed and he was here.

She feels his love. Never doubts it. It's tangible, surrounding her. She has never been loved like this, it's entirely new. Strange and strong.

She feels him struggling though. At night he turns and moans and dreams. Then she can't sleep. 

It gets dark, in her mind. 

At night. 3 am. Very dark. 

Because he loves her but he will leave, they both know it. His promises are lies, half lies, steadfast is a mirage, the storm is his calling and it will take him away, she'll wake up alone and the fairies will laugh and say: "See, old man? You couldn't make it."

But 3am does not last forever. 

Then the morning comes. 

And the light. And the blue, and the sun.

And he's still here, and she smiles.


	8. Annihilation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Chronological order: Electromagnetism, Phase transition, Weak interactions, Aphelion, Gravity, Colliding, Chain reaction, The Observer Effect, Annihilation I, II, Ionization, Limit Point, Euctectic Composition, Life.**   
>  ** Picasso Order: As published. **

There's a scale, one to ten, him feeling loved, and today it's only two. Or three. Not more, definitely. It's a grey cold morning, he didn't sleep much, and he gets up, not looking at her, not kissing her, he just locks himself in the bathroom. He looks tired, older, he wants to get drunk to a total numbness and just fucking stop it.Their silly game, her pretence. She'll see, sooner or later. He’s not the one for her, he’s damaged. It's both terrifying and freeing, in a way - to let it happen. Embrace the inevitable, stop the fear. He starts the shower and stands there, hands against the wall, staring at white tiles, unable to move, to make the next step. 

She touches his shoulder, slightly, not to startle him, but yet he is. With one move he backs her against the wall, pinning her wrists to her chest. Her nightgown is wet, her heart is pounding. She looks him in the eye, and sees right through him. She's vulnerable too, and scared, and hurt. He knows that look, he sees it on those bad days, and he remembers why he can't leave. It would break her. They are fragile, both of them, but she's so much braver, she faces her fears and hopes it will get better. She believes in him, though he did nothing to deserve her trust. And it crushes his walls, it gets to him. 

He kisses her then, desperately, pressing his body against hers, still holding her arms locked. She answers, with the same intensity, and it hurts to realize how easily they can ruin each other. He breaks their kiss moments later and and turns her around to face the wall. His mouth on her neck, kissing all the way from below the ear to her shoulder, nipping her smooth skin almost painfully, his hand goes up her thigh and under the wet fabric, he finds her breast, brushes his fingers against her nipple, then squeezes it and she moans in response. He holds her, controls her in every way like she is a part of him, and she doesn't seem to mind. He pushes into her and she melts, loses it soon, crying, making incoherent sounds. Their way of getting closer to each other. He thrusts faster and she comes, he stops for a second, he wants to make it last for a moment longer. He can't stop time, can he? Finally he is there too, breathless, and they both collapse on the floor. He holds her while she sobs silently on his chest. Probably he is crying too, he can't tell.


	9. Annihilation Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Chronological order: Electromagnetism, Phase transition, Weak interactions, Aphelion, Gravity, Colliding, Chain reaction, The Observer Effect, Annihilation I, II, Ionization, Limit Point, Euctectic Composition, Life.**   
>  ** Picasso Order: As published. **

There's a scale, one to ten, her feeling loved. There is a direct correlation to how there he is.

Sometimes she thinks a part of him never came back from that chamber. Or stayed in Syria. Sometimes she wonders what he did there. He never told her.

Today it is a two. Or maybe just a one.

A day starts as low as a zero when he gets up without even noticing her presence. She knows he didn't sleep well, felt him tossing and turning, but he pushed her away when she reached out to him at 3 am. The darkest hour of the night.

She feels tears welling up in her eyes. Rationally she knows it is not about her, it is the demons he has to fight. And yet it hurts.

She hears him starting the shower. A couple of weeks ago he smashed his fist against the mirror. She was too late then, only could bandage his hand and replace the mirror a few days later.

She gets that, how much exterior pain helps to govern the hole inside. She knows that feeling. And how much pain alleviates the anguish.

The door's not locked so she follows him. He's under the shower, naked, fists against the wall. She sees the scars and what they tell.

When she touches his shoulder to guide him back from the land of the shadows he looks at her and for a moment she thinks he's angry at her. Just then his eyes soften again.

She knows what's gonna happen now.

He presses her into his body, the hot water spraying over both of them, it's always as hot as possible on days like these, liquid pain raining on his body.

She's glad he's back.

He backs her against the wall, gripping her wrists with one hand, hard enough to leave them bruised. It hurts. And yet she feels herself aching for him, wants him to fill the gaping emptiness.

His eyes always betray his actions, she sees him there, sees right through him into the pain and despair and love. She'd do anything to make it stop and turn back time to that night under the trees.

He kisses her then, his mouth hot on hers, his tongue invading her mouth, no tenderness, no seduction, and she answers with the same intensity. She wants him, now and here, but he has her in that tight grip, his hips pressing her against the wall, his hands still restraining hers.

She knows she's in power. The moment she says it it's over. She knows she can ruin him. Probably already did. Multiple times. And yet she wonders if he knows it too. She couldn't carry on if he'd leave her.

He breaks the kiss and turns her around with one swift movement, pressing her into the wall, his hands finding their way under the soaking fabric of her nightgown, his mouth greedily consuming her skin. His hand finds her breast and she's wishing for more friction but he's tender now, just for a moment, grazing her nipple in a silent ask. She feels him rockhard against her buttocks and wishes she could go down on her knees to give herself to him, but he's governing her in every possible way.

Finally she manages to push her hips back, enough to make him groan and give in, his fingers squeezing her nipple, giving her the welcome pleasure and pain.

His other arm goes around her waist and lifts her as he pushes into her, she's at his mercy now and this is how she can lose herself and forget.

He's thrusting into her, keeping her close, using and enjoying his superiority, he's building pace and cadence and she hears and feels his groans as his orgasm is building up. She's there a moment before him, his thrusts forceful and as deep as possible, he is tightening his grip around her as she comes and screams and then releases with a deep moan.

He collapses to the floor and pulls her with him, protecting her fall with his body, and the hot water is soothing now. His arms are around her, she's safe now, and yet she is crying. So is he.

She sits up after a while, turns off the shower, gets rid of the wet shirt and grabs a towel, helps him to get up and wraps it around him and then another one around herself. Her skin is tender and red.

He scoops her up in his arms and carries her back to bed, before they lay down again the towels have to leave, and then she's in his arms again.

He won't leave her. Not today.

They make love a while later, careful and gentle this time, and there's a moment when he looks down at her right into her eyes, and she sees it's him.

"Don't leave me", he whispers. He never said it before.

 


	10. Ionization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Chronological order: Electromagnetism, Phase transition, Weak interactions, Aphelion, Gravity, Colliding, Chain reaction, The Observer Effect, Annihilation I, II, Ionization, Limit Point, Euctectic Composition, Life.**   
>  ** Picasso Order: As published. **

It is a cold morning in the early spring, she is woken up by the sun beaming through the curtains, she turns to him, but his side of the bed is empty. A voice in her head instantly tells her it has happened, and a wave of panic crashes on her. _Inhale, exhale, he’s probably downstairs or out to buy a breakfast or…_ Her heart beating fast in her ears, rational thoughts gone, she knows, she feels it in her guts, he has left - again - and this time for real. She won't hear from him. She’s alone. She's pacing around the room, focusing on her breathing, she has to calm down, wake up Franny, she can't let her know, she has to come up with a good explanation for her daughter - where he is - he usually takes her to school, fuck, she has to do it, to act normal, to drive the car safely, but how, she’s captured by her fear, it possesses her, it blinds her, holds her throat not allowing her to breathe… she stops.

And then she sees it. The note on his nightstand. She closes her eyes just for a second, she doesn't allow any sliver of hope to creep in. 

 

_Carrie,  
We destroy each other. I can't let it happen._

 

And that's it. He hasn't even signed it. 

 

She’s numb. She doesn't cry. She gets dressed. She kisses her girl goodbye, waves at her when she walks towards the school entrance. 

 

She drives back, her face shows no emotion, there aren't any. She feels empty. She opens the door, and there he is. 

 

It's a relief. So vital that she can't be mad, and she knows he never meant to hurt her. She knows he suffers too. She hugs him. 

 

But a tiny piece of her soul is left somewhere, in the darkness, forever locked inside.


	11. Limit Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Chronological order: Electromagnetism, Phase transition, Weak interactions, Aphelion, Gravity, Colliding, Chain reaction, The Observer Effect, Annihilation I, II, Ionization, Limit Point, Euctectic Composition, Life.**   
>  ** Picasso Order: As published. **

Syria is only sun and the sun hurts. 

The sun reminds him of her. The sands remind him of her. The ruins remind him of her. 

Five days ago, her father’s funeral. The kiss. Two weeks ago, Haqqani. All those corpses in the embassy. 

The bomb. Carrie. 

Now, just sun and pain. 

He knows it's not true. Love doesn't exist, for real. All that pain, just neurons firing off the wrong way, hormones going awry, the human race’s genetic desire to reproduce getting twisted, but it's not real, all these thoughts, it's just his brain, an illusion. 

He hurts. 

It's so fresh. One week. The kiss. And he thought… he hoped, and now. 

Reality is everywhere, striking him. Slapping him. Death, torture, fire. Every beautiful thought, every illusion of light gets tramped over by what he sees, daily cruelty, average madness. 

Tenderness, connection, all jokes, cruel inventions of complexity gone mad. 

He dreamed, war woke him up. He’s grateful. 

Then he sees them. 

Thirty one weeks in. They're getting married, outside, in the shambles. With formal wedding clothes, the groom is in a tux, perfectly ironed, the bride is in a white, sumptuous, dramatic white dress, with all the dirt flying around it's not going to stay white for long, Quinn thinks, cynically, but still, the dress is white for now. 

They're taking pictures. Of the wedding. In the middle of the warzone. Of course it's on purpose, of course it's a giant fuck you to hate and destruction, but he cannot applaud. 

All those dreams, a fake construct. 

“Love in the ruins,” Rob says. With so much irony that's it almost cuts the concrete. 

They stay there, both watching. Then Quinn walks toward the couple, they're laughing and taking selfies. There are children’s bodies rotting not that far from here.

But he has to get closer. He's fascinated. That dress, that tux, the folly of it all, the light in her eyes, the adoration in his... All lies, your brain making up nets and hooks but still. 

“Congratulations,” he says, stopping not too close. He's heavily armed after all, he doesn't want to scare them. 

“Congratulations,” he repeats, when the bride turns to him. She's not beautiful, but kind eyes. Tears and hope. 

“I just want to be happy,” she whispers.

It’s a strange non sequitur, but he nods. 

“You will be,” the man says - the groom, or maybe her husband already. He holds her then, he holds her tight, he holds her close. 

“We will be,” he whispers, again. And Quinn just looks at them, thinking there is hope and there is love.

For them.

\----

It's six years later, he's living with Carrie. 

It's so hard. He almost left, just last Thursday. Left her a note, then came back. 

He shouldn’t have. They are killing each other. 

Love in the ruins. He almost hears Rob's voice that day, so ironic. So hopeless. 

They start their bondage games on a Tuesday. Quinn ties Carrie up, on the bed. The usual, blindfolding and giving orders and making her ask and beg and moan and beg again. Routine. 

Then it’s next Tuesday and she does it to him. 

It’s entirely different. 

First it starts the same. Him, tied on the bed. Her caressing him, lightly, driving him crazy till he is hard as fuck (doesn’t want to ask, doesn’t want to beg), she keeps at it till he is writhing and trying not to show that he… She pinches him, hard, then she lies on him with her hand on his cock not caressing not squeezing, her hand, just lying there. Tantalizing. Her face is next to his and she whispers: 

“Tell me I don't love you." 

"What?” he gasps. 

Maybe she said, “Tell me you love me.” But she didn’t. She begins caressing him again, down there, grabs him, then lets go, instantly; his body almost spasms. “Tell me I don't love you,” she repeats. And he tries, but will not, cannot, words don’t pass his lips. So she plays the game again with her hand and he does ask and he does beg but she keeps repeating, “Say it,”; she bits the lobe of his ear, cruelly, “Say it,” she orders, he breathes the words, so low they are non existent, “Repeat it,” she says, "You don't love me", he finally utters, and all the while she is - she makes him repeat it once more, he is trembling all over, "Say I don't love you but you will stay,” she orders then; he tries to rebel, but her hand is still down there and she hurts him, just as bad as allowed and as bad as necessary; "You don't love me but I will stay", he whispers, and she gratifies him, not completely, he is gone anyway, not physically, but mentally, surrendering; she hurts him again to get him to say, "You don't love me but I'll do anything,” he does, she makes him repeat it twice, “Anything”, "Is that what you want, Carrie?" he croaks, he is not totally there, "Yes", she laughs, then she stands up, goes into the kitchen to get a glass of water… Because she is thirsty, but also because it feels good to just leave him there, tied up, because she could do anything, anything, to him.

When she gets back he’s gone. 

“Fuck!”

The bed is empty. They are broken, these stupid cheap handcuffs they bought in that shop. He could be anywhere. “Shit!” Dangerous, she thinks, except it’s a game, right, just a sexual game. But she is scared, suddenly. Terrified. She tries to leave the room; that’s when he grabs her, gagging her with his hand and dragging her in the dark closet.

"Franny", she says, tries to say, beneath his hand, but Franny is not here, they both know it. "The neighbors," she tries again when he shoves her harshly against the wall and begins to rip her clothes off. "Shut up and they won't hear anything,” he groans. She tries to get out of his grip. He twists her arms and ties her to the rail, naked, and he’s strangling her (almost) and kissing her (almost) and strangling her harder and kissing her again and she sees black stars (almost). He stops, his hand on her throat, ready, "Say you're mine," he orders and she resists so his hold gets tighter and she obeys. “Say you’ll do anything”, he adds then, and he makes her repeat it and repeat it till she collapses in tears, and something in him collapses too, he unties her, his hands are trembling, he takes her in his arms, they fall on the floor, holding on to each other, both naked and trembling, shells broken, everything broken, "I don't want to lose you", she mutters, and he babbles God knows what, he doesn’t even remember it after. She whispers, "I just want to be happy." 

”You will be,” he breathes. “We will be.” And he holds her then, he holds her tight, he holds her close, and it does begin now... At this minute, understanding, and healing. 

They have broken everything, but now, in the ruins, there’s love and hope again.


	12. Phase transition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Chronological order: Electromagnetism, Phase transition, Weak interactions, Aphelion, Gravity, Colliding, Chain reaction, The Observer Effect, Annihilation I, II, Ionization, Limit Point, Euctectic Composition, Life.**   
>  ** Picasso Order: As published. **

You don't know that you miss a thing if you’ve never experienced it before. He saw it all the time – happy reunions, even in bleak circumstances, lit faces of those who were around, during family visits. He wondered how it was possible, to feel this connection, so strong even though intangible, this need to care for loved ones, and, on the other end, this solid confidence that you are needed, that they won't quit on you when shit gets too bad, no matter what's left of your strength, your former self.  
Loneliness. He was always alone but he never felt it before, it was the norm, a daily reality of his. Here, locked within these four white walls with his fellow sufferers, he finally understood what the buzz was about. Those guys, other patients, they all - every one of them - had faithful visitors, who came, one day after the other, showing support and understanding, despite hardships, despite everything, even in hopeless cases, more so in hopeless cases, and this idea completely kicked the ground out from under his feet. It was the first time in his life he believed it was possible.  
He’d never had this. People came into his life, people went away. Those who stuck around were hoping to get something from him. All his life. But now, finally, there was nothing he could offer.  
Yet she came. He didn't allow her, but she found ways. He scratched her from the visitors list long ago, although she showed up, like she didn't know it. He wondered what it took her to pull it off each time. He didn't let her in though, he stayed distant, he didn't react. When he was better, he raged, when he was worse, he lay silently, staring at the opposite wall, like she wasn't there.  
She kept coming. That day, Christmas Eve, he was in his room, and once again he thought it was impossible to comprehend, the visitors who preferred to be in this place, with its chlorine smell, grey corridors and artificial Christmas tree that was more likely to depress rather than cheer up, who left their warm cosy homes to be there for someone they cared about.  
The nurse came in and said, “Ready to meet your family?” He was going to say no, it is a mistake, I don't have a family, but at that moment they entered the room, she and Franny, and the girl was wearing Santa hat, and they both were smiling, the child brightly, Carrie with a hint of uncertainty.  
“Don't say anything, please,” she spoke quietly, “we just wanted to..”  
This time he didn't turn away. He couldn't.  
“We brought you cookies,” Franny said. He could only wave his hand, inviting them to sit down.  
She sat on the edge of his bed, and, while Franny was concentrating on getting the container out of her bag and opening it, she took his hand and said “Merry Christmas, Quinn.” Their first Christmas together.


	13. Euctectic Composition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Chronological order: Electromagnetism, Phase transition, Weak interactions, Aphelion, Gravity, Colliding, Chain reaction, The Observer Effect, Annihilation I, II, Ionization, Limit Point, Euctectic Composition, Life.**   
>  ** Picasso Order: As published. **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my friends. Happy new year.

Two days.

Two days after the incident. That night. That. Two days of walking on eggshells. Two days of not raising the topic.

They had dropped Franny at school together, for two days.

There was a coffee shop across the street from the school. On the first morning he put his arm around her shoulder at the school gate - he usually didn't, not in public. It felt strange. He asked her if she had time for a quick cup of coffee.

She hadn't, but of course she agreed.

The next morning they left the house ten minutes earlier. He kissed Franny goodbye at the school gate, just when her teacher came over.

"Good morning Franny,” she said, "so that's a special morning, when both of your parents drop you together, isn't it?"

Carrie froze. Quinn gave the teacher a small smile and a nod.

When they went back to the car Carrie put her arm through his. That was rare. She asked if he had time for a cup of coffee. Even rarer.

The second night she wakes e up with a start at 3am. Maybe she's sensed his tossing and turning. He isn't in bed and she feels the coldness creeping in.

"I'm here," he says.

He sits in the dark, in the armchair next to the window. The one she uses for heaps of clothes.

"What is it?"

She has never asked before. He wonders if he had been ready to answer anyway. It isn't like she can't take an educated guess.

"Nothing special. Just - ," his voice breaks.

"Darkness."

"Yeah."

Carrie gets up, slowly crossing the room and stands next to him. He doesn't move, she can barely see him. Just a dark form looming in a corner of the room.

Carrie reaches out for his shoulder, noticing how tense he is.

"Come back to bed," she whispers, "you don't have to get up when it happens."

He sighs and gets up, clearly not comfortable with her request.

But of course he follows her, stiff and tense, probably holding back whatever has made him get up in the first place. Carrie doesn't lie down and he is just about to accuse her of another sick powerplay when she sits down on top of the comforter, placing a hand on his chest.

"Turn around" she whispers, tugging at his shirt. He pulls it off, glaring at her for a moment before turning and exposing his back.

Her hands are warm as she starts to massage his shoulders, her slender fingers working his muscles, digging into knots, rubbing and rolling all those spots which hurt because he is always on guard, tense and vigilant.

He lets go, slowly, reluctantly. She feels his breathing evening out and his heartbeat calming, the hardened areas slowly opening up.

"You left me three times," she says, just when he feels he is drifting, somewhere between sleep and yearning.

_ And what is there to say? _

"You left me three times and you still question my reliability. I was late, yes, but once I was there I never left you again."

There is no accusation in her voice. She is soft, her hands keeping doing wonders for his back.

There isn't much he could offer as a reply.

But just when she thinks she's probably misread him again - they aren’t trying to be different, just regrouping and regaining strength before going back to their deadly dance - he takes a deep breath.

In. And out.

"I leave when there's nothing left I can give."

Breathing. In. And out. Her hands. Tying him to the bed. In another way.

"What I have to give is not enough then?"

He hears all the unspoken questions.  _ Am I not enough then? _

He thinks about that morning in the shower, a few weeks ago. About the countless times he felt her awake at three in the morning, how she never reaches out for him in those moments, not since he's once slapped her away when she did, just a few days after he's moved in with her. He never apologized. That's not how they are. Except now, sometimes he might like to feel her hand or her warmth when he gets cold, dark and desperate.

Since the chamber he's always cold.

On good days she's the sun. On neutral days she's the fire. On bad days she's still light but cold moonlight in a Syrian desert. Bright, intense, cold.

Her hands are smooth, gliding, rubbing, kneading, warming him, easing the everlasting pain.

"I always carry you with me,” he says. “I tried to leave, to forget, or at least to bury it, but I can't. You are always there."

"So that makes you angry.” A statement, not a question.

Her hands are working their way up and down his back, her knuckles pressing firmly left and right of his spine. It is good. Strangely comfortable.

A fraction of a movement. A nod, maybe.

So she ventures on, pushing her luck. Pressing circles with her knuckles into his lower back.

"I can take the anger. But not the fear that this time you might not come back."

"So if I leave again..."

He doesn’t finish the sentence. He leaves his conclusion unspoken but suddenly he feels cold again.

"No. Of course not. I'm not saying that."

"You know I'll always come back."

It hits him then and there that she apparently does not know it.

_ You don't love me but I'll stay. _

His fear the first part of the sentence, her fear the second part.

Two halves. Matching cutting edges.

He turns around and looks at her, not able to make out her expression in the dark.

But it doesn’t matter. He is sure what he is going to see. So he sits up and pulls her close, her warmth, his skin.

_ She's the sun. _

"Being at the receiving end is hard," he says.

"And yet it never feels enough. That I never give enough?"

She is right. His need for her is a black hole, and it will never be enough. The modest part of his nature, the part that could just wait and see, the patient part, that part died in Berlin.

"Carrie... I try... Six out of seven days... or maybe five... but then comes another day... And it gets really dark then..."

She waits. Patience was never her strength but she waits. He helds her close, his hand pressing her near his chest.

"Leaving, deliberately leaving. It’s easier. Than getting... rejected. Kicked out."

"I never did that."

"But one day you might."

She doesn’t answer. She waits. But that is all he has to offer.

He feels her moving and standing up. He wonders where she is going, but she just stands up next to the bed and looks at him while she is slowly undressing. She is completely naked when she speaks again.

"Lie down."

"Why?"

"Lie down, Quinn."

He tries taking her hand but she doesn’t allow him. So he slowly leans back, not taking his eyes from her, while she crawls between his legs.

She is going to put her mouth on him.

Any second.

And he wants it.

But she doesn’t. Not yet. Her hand closes around him after she shoves down his briefs.

"Quinn. I'm so fucking afraid that you might be gone one day. I need to be enough."

"It'll never be enough."

She recoils like he hit her.

"No Carrie. Christ. You  _ are _ enough. You are - it's me who is...," he has to try, although it is so hard, "it's never enough because I never had anything like...  _ us _ ... Never anything to trust in... and so..."

"It's been years now."

"It's been decades."

_ Before _ .

Decades with no one. Just abuse, and getting exploited, and worse. He never spoke about it.

"So whatever I do...?"

"I don't know. I can only try."

"So can I."

She comes back slowly, crawling towards him on her hands and knees, her eyes not leaving his face.

He is shivering with anticipation.

There hadn't been any sex since the  _ incident _ .

But now her mouth goes down on him, slowly, hot and wet, devastatingly good.

Her lips are wrapped around the head of his cock, touching nothing else, just her tongue swirling around slowly. Her mouth slides all the way down to the base of his dick. She sucks, hard. Just once. But it is enough for him to feel like she is pulling the cum out of his balls. She starts working her lips, pressed tight against his hard cock, up and down, back and forth.

And then she breaks away.

"Put your hand in my hair and guide my speed."

His hand goes into her hair, cupping her cheek and brushing a thumb over her lips on the way and she leans in again.

Her hands are on his balls, massaging. She slides off his hard-on and spends some time licking and sucking his balls. She takes them both into her mouth and he is in heaven.  She lets them fall out of her mouth, and he whimpers with the loss, but that quickly turns into a moan when she takes him all in her warm mouth again. She is sliding slow and deep and he twists his fingers in her hair, resisting the urge to lead her to a faster pace or more pressure.

So it takes a long time. She takes him to the brink several times, just to keep him there then, her mouth and tongue still, no movement, his hips surging, his heart aching, moaning her name.

But she waits until his movements cease and only then she goes on. Four times. On the fifth she raises her head, lets go of him and comes up for a deep and filthy kiss. He tastes himself on her tongue.

"I want you to let go. I want you to take over. Take me like you want me. Make me do it like you want it. I'm yours."

He squeezes her ass, moans her name, his hands back in her hair, guiding her down.

This time he won’t allow her to stop again, he wants her to suck hard and he presses her head down on him, fucks her mouth, makes her swallow him, he presses her deeper, three hard deep thrusts and then he is there.

Oblivion. Release. Sun. Stars.

She stays with him, he feels her swallowing and then guiding him through his descent, soft kisses now, massaging his balls with gentle movements.

He makes amends a while later, fingers, lips and tongue until he is sure he’s ready.

Then he turns her on her stomach, she thinks she is a brainless, boneless mess anyway, and he enters her from behind. Far too slow and yet so good. He won't allow her fast and easy gratification.

He possesses her, fucks her slowly, it is not enough but he isn’t allowing her more.

"Feel this Carrie. This. You and me."

She feels him covering all of her body, surrounding her and owning her, protecting her and shielding her soul.

And so she lets go. She allows him to take this so annoyingly slow, she goes with it. Moaning his name and more.

He needs this. Although he would probably never admit it. And she needs it too. But she was always the stronger.

She isn’t begging as much as he wishes.

But when he rises to his knees and pulls her hips with him, stabilizing her with his hands, she groans and feels a vast relief when he finally just drives himself into her, hard and deep. It just takes three thrusts and she is there, clenching around him and whimpering his name. Nothing else makes sense, just his name.

He collapses on top of her, crushing her with his weight, his cum leaking down her thighs now.

"I'll always come back," he whispers, nearly inaudible.


	14. Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Chronological order: Electromagnetism, Phase transition, Weak interactions, Aphelion, Gravity, Colliding, Chain reaction, The Observer Effect, Annihilation I, II, Ionization, Limit Point, Euctectic Composition, Life.**   
>  ** Picasso Order: As published. **

There's a scale, of one to ten, him feeling loved, and today it's a ten. Or a nine. Or an eight, maybe. The more he thinks about it, the more it goes down, because that’s him, but he knows how to stop the process now. 

An eight. 

He stops at eight, and eight is pretty fucking good.

It’s a normal morning. Sun not shining through. No blue sky, no spring, no easy symbolism of renewal. Normal clouds, normal town, normal day.

But things have been good. Very good, since that night. 

\--

Sometimes he can’t believe it has turned that way. He’s in bed, thinking. Morning light, sipping through the window. Downstairs, Carrie’s preparing breakfast for Franny, normal noises, normal voices.

He’s thinking.

His life is a puzzle. His love for Carrie. Their story. Moments come back to him – nothing chronological. Picasso Order. First scene – always - when she said “I love you”, under that bridge. Then other parts. They make love in the shower. They annihilate each other, sex, hate, doubt, chain reactions. He leaves, she’s cold, he’s in the hospital, she’s there, it’s Christmas, she’s there, he leaves her a note, he’s gone. 

Sex, again. They torture each other, but he stays.

_He’s in the hospital, and he leaves her. He meets her for the first time, during the Brody operation. He’s travelling, and he sees her face on every sky._

Their story, memories, a thousand glass shards. It’s harsh. It’s cruel. But there’s love there, light. There’s hope. 

And it could have been so much worse.

He could have died, so many times. He sees them, all the ways his life could have ended – in so many tragic, dumb ways. Visions in his head like a staccato. And suddenly he can’t breathe. But it’s not the gas chamber. It’s not a memory, not a flashback. Just emotion.

Love. Joy. Gratefulness. That he’s alive, that he's here. Gratefulness, that she is, too. So close, in the kitchen downstairs. And in love with him, (at least that’s what she pretends, the dark voice says, but he knows how to smother it now.) 

He’s up. Emotion still choking him. He thinks rationality will win, the feelings will subside while he’s going down the stairs, but they don’t, they get stronger. When he gets in the kitchen, Franny and the nanny have just left for school. 

He walks to Carrie and takes her hand in his. She’s instantly worried.

“I already told you…” He begins.

She waits, but nothing else comes, so she asks: “You told me what?”

“That I would leave again,” he succeeds to say. He has trouble talking. “But that I would… always come back.” 

It’s difficult for her to answer – emotion rising, too. 

“Yes.”

“To you,” he adds. “Always come back to you.”

“Yes,” she repeats. “Gravity,” she adds, with a forced smile. “You cannot break free.” He nods, and he is so happy, watching her, bound to her, adoring her, can’t she see? What a miracle it is, that they’re both here? What a miracle it is (whenever, wherever) when two people live and love - each other - doesn’t she see? It’s stupid, it’s crazy, but he could fall on his knees and pray, he could thank God someone, anyone, but he doesn’t believe in anything – but still he could… Because it is a miracle, right there, and people, everywhere, are taking this miracle for granted.

But she doesn’t see, she is too scared still. She asks, “So… You are leaving? Right now?”

He looks at her. “No.”

And it seems like there is only one moment, and it is now. So he whispers:

“Will you marry me?”

\--

There's a scale, of one to ten, her feeling loved, and today it's a ten. Or a nine. Or an eight, maybe. The more she thinks about it, the more it goes down, because that’s her, but she knows how to stop the process now. 

An eight. She stops at eight, and eight is pretty fucking good.

It’s a normal morning. Sun not shining through. No blue sky, no spring, no symbolism of renewal. Normal clouds, normal town, normal day.

Then he asks his question, and she answers, and today, it’s a ten.


End file.
